


Entrainment

by cinereous



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Love Bites, M/M, PWP, Pining, Post-Canon, Stubble Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 12:53:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18344081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinereous/pseuds/cinereous
Summary: Relegated to seeing Iwai once a week, Akira's only comfort during the days in between are the traces left behind that he carries on his body.





	Entrainment

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [Dick or Treat 2019](https://dick-or-treat.dreamwidth.org/)! Please go check it out! Beta read by habenaria_radiata.

    The first thing to fade was always the ache between his legs. It only ever lasted for one day, maybe two. That first day of going to work where every step shot delicious discomfort up his spine was what he enjoyed the absolute most.  
  
    It was like the ache after a particularly good work out, and it was a reminder of just how good sleeping with Iwai was.  
  
    The hollowness was what followed. Often while sitting in his university classes and trying to listen to lecture, the hollowness would make itself known and the ache would start to appear. It was a yawning, hungry void that constantly whispered that something was missing. He no longer felt full and whole and pleased. Now he was _bereft_. Now he didn't have the ache to take along with him through his days.  
  
    Stubble burn was always second. He could carry it just a couple of days more. The sandpaper rasp of it filled his daydreams, scraping along his jaw, his chin, his lips. He remembered the sensation of it as Iwai dragged his mouth down his body and left that fiery trail behind along his chest, his stomach, his hips, and even further below.  
  
    The love bites were third. Akira found himself checking his reflection in the Crossroads bathroom most often. There was something more lurid about seeing them in the hot pink lighting there, deep sensual bruises blossoming along his neck like night blooming flowers.  
  
    Iwai had not quite mastered leaving them only where Akira could hide them. His hair and makeup hid the one always left just beneath his ear, but those along the pale column of his throat were more difficult, and Akira had given up trying to pretend they were anything else under Lala's gaze.  
  
    Lala could not see the rest, after all. Iwai hid tattoos under his clothes, but Akira hid signs of Iwai's affection under his own. He carried them with him throughout the week until they faded to nothing, and he had to see him again.  
  
    It was the waiting game that made them both so ravenous, but that was their agreement. Akira might be older now, but it didn't stop Iwai from viewing him as someone he had to look after. Once Akira had opened up and explained how many jobs he had on top of his schooling, Iwai had put his foot down about only doing this...whatever _this_ was...during his free time.  
  
    Once a week.  
  
    Every night was torture when his body felt exhausted from all of his responsibilities, but his cock did not care. Touching himself never felt right. His hands were too soft, his fingers too long and cool to ever satisfy him now.  
  
    The only thing he got to keep from one visit to the next was his scent.  
  
    It had only taken a softly spoken and vulnerable request for Iwai to start bringing a change of clothes with him and leave behind a new worn shirt to replace the previous one. Akira had thought he'd never wear a turtleneck after Shujin Academy - now he wore one to bed almost every night. It smelled like Iwai, and it helped him crawl through the days.  
  
    The cologne Iwai wore was sharp and tangy and made Akira think of how gun metal tasted. It lingered on his tongue as much as in his nose, gently burning and heady. It was the sort of scent that stubbornly clung to clothes and demanded fingerprints to be left behind on skin in worship of it. It lived like a many toothed creature within the fabric fibers under the faint veneer of cigarette smoke, waiting to catch him when the ache between his legs had faded to almost nothing so that it could wear him down into maudlin thoughts.  
  
    It was Iwai's gift to him, but it still paled in comparison to him in person. Perhaps it was Iwai's way of making him pant for him over the days, until he was ravenous and mindless and weak. Iwai never seemed to be as lost, as out of control and needy. Instead, he was steadfast and calm. He was demanding.  
  
    "Don't."  
  
    Akira's eyes flashed open at the gruff command, but he heeded it all the same by slowly removing his hand from covering his mouth. He could not resist biting his lip instead. His vision was flooded with serious grey eyes and thin brows knit tightly enough together that creases formed along Iwai's forehead and deepened the ones beneath his eyes.  
  
    There was always a tension to his facial features; a brittleness that had no name, but made Akira think of dried out leaves still clinging to their branches in Fall. Even when Iwai glared, the tilt to his brows was never quite right, never quite enough to hide the shadows that called his face home. Every emotion was a trembling one. A real one, raw and poorly veiled.  
  
    In this moment, Iwai was not glaring. His eyes looked naked without his hat to hide them, and the deep grey felt like body warmed velvet as they traced the eager lines of his own face. Intensity was layered on top of intensity in that one stare, and it was the reason Akira always came back.  
  
    He didn't remember exactly when things changed between them. It was impossible to pinpoint when Iwai's gaze moved from supervising him while he stocked the shelves to heated appraisal that bored blazing holes into his back. Akira didn't remember when he felt his grudging irritation over constantly being watched while he worked morph over into what he could only describe as subtle titillation that gave way to blushes and stretches and glances from beneath his lashes in search of approval.  
  
    The shift between them had been gradual but electric. The tiny shop had never seemed big enough to hold their tension in the beginning. Every creak of the chair as Iwai shifted and recrossed his ankles on the counter had sent a jolt down Akira's spine as if that time...that time was the one Iwai would cross the room and pin him to the shelves.  
  
    It never happened like that. Akira had been forced to keep working around his classes and endure the torture that was sharing space with Iwai in this fog of feelings without names day in and day out. It was no surprise that it was Akira who had eventually given in.  
  
    He was reckless by nature, and he had taken delighted satisfaction in how it had felt to pin Iwai to the shelves instead.  
  
    Today it was not Iwai who was pinned, but him.  
  
    Iwai always felt too big for his small apartment and his small bed. Akira had hit a small growth spurt this past year, but he doubted he would ever be a pillar of manhood to rival Iwai, who wore masculinity like a second skin.  
  
    As the man settled his weight heavier on top of his body, Akira didn't try to hide his moan of appreciation. The sensation of chest hair along his smooth skin and facial hair against his cheek filled his world as he wrapped his arms around Iwai's broad shoulders.  
  
    He hadn't felt this man for over a week, and every single touch was electric as if Akira was nothing more than an exposed nerve.  
  
    "Don't tell me what to do," he teased with a smirk as he wrapped a hand around the back of Iwai's neck and pulled him down for another kiss.  
  
    His lips were faintly sticky, and the taste of cherry candy flooded his mouth. It was the sweetest reward Akira could imagine as he hungrily pried apart Iwai's lips to let his tongue snake inside. His teeth were sharp and sugar slick, and his tongue was unafraid to meet and twine with his own. As Iwai groaned for him he could taste the peppery smoke from his cigarettes, deep and oddly dry, but it always reminded Akira of burning paper as if the man burned secrets deep in his chest and expelled them as this addictive taste.  
  
    A rough hand descended down his chest, and Akira's breath caught as Iwai wrapped his calloused fingers around his cock and squeezed with authority. He even had the audacity to chuckle in the middle of their kiss as he began to slowly move up and down the length of it.  
  
    "You're a punk. You're gonna make me put you in your place. You gonna make me do that?" he crooned, letting his stubble burn all along Akira's lips as he kissed around Akira's face teasingly. It made his heart race in his chest like a caged rabbit. He didn't feel too much different from one as Iwai shifted more weight where he was pinning Akira's wrist to the bed with his other hand.  
  
    The rebel in him was demanding he be catty and playful and deny Iwai the satisfaction, but fuck, it had been a week. A week without this weight and Iwai's irreverent way of speaking and the scent of cigarettes, glue, and cologne. It had him feeling powerless and too greedy as he squirmed and helplessly lifted his hips in the hope for more.  
  
    "Mmn _nnh_ , don't care. Just don't want you stop," he whispered. He knew it sounded desperate and didn't care. When the man didn't start to move his hand, Akira's eyes flashed open to see him just staring down at him like a brick wall, but one that smirked.  
  
    Akira squirmed more, noting the circle of Iwai's hand was still tight and good, but he refused to give more than that. Instead, he just watched him as if waiting. For what, Akira wasn't sure. Did he want him to beg? Did he want him to ask nicely? Fuck.  
  
    Finally, it became too much, and Akira knew his eyes flashed with sparks as he glared at him. " _Iwai_! Don't you dare. It's been a _week_ ," he hissed, planting his free hand hard on the man's shoulder and shoved upwards in an attempt to roll their bodies.  
  
    Iwai was like dead weight on top of him. He didn't budge, but his smirk did grow wider and more pleased before he removed his hand from Akira. "Wait! No! Don't stop!"  
  
    His words fell on deaf ears, but it turned out he needn't have worried. Iwai burrowed his arm up beneath Akira's thigh and the next moment he hiked it up over his shoulder like Akira's body was his to do with as he pleased.  
  
    "Hand me the lube before I change my mind," he whispered gruffly. The sound of it sent shockwaves of pleasure like nails into his stomach. Akira fumbled and shook as he reached for the bottle of lubricant and the condom on his bedside table.  
  
    His heart pounded against his ribcage with excitement and arousal, and he watched as Iwai tore the condom wrapper with his teeth and worked it onto his cock like he'd done the act a million times. Maybe he had. Akira had asked very little about his past so far, and in this moment all that mattered was the fresh, hot present that was making sweat start to itch at his skin.  
  
    By the time Iwai was prepared, Akira was shaking in anticipation, but the man wasn't done with him yet. Before he had even noticed the shift of his hand, two fingers slid inside his body with blunt authority. Just the sensation of that hungry void being filled was enough.  
  
    Akira practically sobbed in relief as the whispers that something was missing went silent. There was heat and shape and pleasure filling him now, quieting every feeling of desolation he had carried. His whole body melted and relaxed as Iwai began to move his fingers slowly in and out of his body while he still stared down at him as if he could pin him down with his gaze alone.  
  
    Perhaps he could. Akira felt helpless under it, staring back as if mesmerized despite his jaw dropping around pleasure every time Iwai expertly brushed against his prostate. It was never long enough to give him anything substantial, but it made his whole body shake with electricity every time.  
  
    The lurid sound his fingers made as they slipped free was enough to make Akira blush and rub bashfully at his neck, but embarrassment couldn’t last long when he felt Iwai press the head of his cock flush to his opening and pause.  
  
    Akira knew this pause. It was the hesitation Iwai always had that silently asked the question 'are you sure?'. It was as if the man still wasn't sure that anyone could want to be here with him. No matter how much lust was in his gaze Akira could always see the wild skittishness present in these pauses.  
  
    Perhaps one day they would talk about it. Today wouldn't be that day, not when his skin felt like it would burn up if the man didn't move.  
  
    "A _week_ , Iwai," he reminded as if it were possible for his lover to forget that he had been dying for this for days on days. He sounded like was begging, and he did not even care at this point.  
  
    Iwai nodded in understanding, time seeming to rush back into him to the point Akira thought he may have gotten lost. Lost like he never seemed to look. Had he been hiding it this whole time? Akira wanted to ask questions, to think about what that meant and when it started, but Iwai pushed forward in that moment, sinking inside of him an inch or two and making him gasp loudly.  
  
    Fuck. That first second was always the most intense. Akira's shoulders dug into the bed as his mouth fell open around his sounds of perfectly prepared, but not prepared at all gasps. His nails dug trenches into Iwai's tattooed shoulders, but only for a moment.  
  
    Iwai took control in the next breath, grabbing both of his hands by the wrist and pressing them down into the sheets in a predatory manner that made Akira's stomach burn hot and harsh. One of his hands was slick with the lubricant, and Akira tried not to think about it as Iwai shifted in a way that let him know he was planting his knees into the mattress.  
  
    Excitement dueled with softer feelings, and both were rewarded as Iwai looked up and caught his eyes before shoving his hips and all of his weight forward in one fluid movement. Thick, unapologetic heat and weight pushed into the void to the point Akira could not stop himself as he tipped his head back against the pillow and a desperate 'ohfuckyes' left him in a rush of syllables.  
  
    He felt almost folded in half underneath Iwai, and it felt good instead of uncomfortable. He wrapped the leg not currently hoisted upon the man's shoulder around his waist. He felt every inch the melodramatic sacrifice for the dragon that was Iwai, the man who would not give him the time of day until Akira was brave enough and who hoarded bits and pieces of his time in the shop doing work that was made up at best.  
  
    Iwai never needed help in the shop. He needed a partner. He needed someone smart, and sharp, and pretty. He had told him once in the afterglow after a few too many bottles of sake between them that it had started that way. He had wanted someone with an innocent face that others would trust.  
  
    He hadn't been prepared for it to be the hook that snared him instead when he was least suspecting it.  
  
    Iwai hadn't expected to want him. Akira had wanted him from day one, but he hadn't expected to fall in love with him somewhere between the time Iwai visited him after his imprisonment and his return to the shop to work through university over a year later. He'd returned like a moth to a flame, battering himself against Iwai's walls inexpertly because he had no other way to express what he wanted from him other than simply being in his presence.  
  
    As Iwai looked down at him in that moment Akira felt like many things, but he definitely felt like he was the flame. He could practically see himself reflected in Iwai's eyes as the man began to move.  
  
    He tried to make his own translate all of his feelings back to him. He wanted to beg him and entice him. 'Come to me. Don't stop.'  
  
    He didn't even realize he was mumbling aloud, arching his back to meet Iwai's hips as his whole body started to grow hot with lust. "Don't stop. Don't stop," he whispered.  
  
    For his part, Iwai didn't. His hands tightened around Akira's wrists to the point he knew there would be bruises. It should upset him, but all it did was give him pleasure. It was another treasure to keep for the week, to remind him and keep him going.  
  
    As if he could read his mind Iwai ducked his head down, and the searing heat of his mouth suddenly bloomed against his neck. Stubble rasped his throat and teeth scored delicate skin only to be soothed by his tongue.  
  
    His hips lurched, causing his cock to bang up inside of him unapologetically. The movement was so rough Akira worried vaguely that his hips might bruise too, and fuck, just the idea of it was so good. He clawed his nails against Iwai's knuckles where he knew there were already scars. Not from him, but from bar fights and other shadier business in his past. It was something he carried with him permanently, just like his tattoos, and Akira was oddly jealous he had no way to carry Iwai on his skin the same way.  
  
    The heat from his neck spread up, blazing against his jaw until humid breath melted against his ear and was replaced a second later by the sordid wetness of Iwai's tongue, as if he were hellbent on eating him alive.  
  
    Akira was practically sobbing his pleasure as Iwai pushed and grazed and slammed against his prostate over and over again while his tongue flirted at his ear. He couldn't do anything. Iwai's weight pressed him down into the blankets, forcing him to simply accept his pleasure.  
  
    When Iwai's voice suddenly rumbled in his ears like a Summer thunderstorm, Akira could already taste the end.  
  
    "You gonna come for me?" he whispered. The sensation of Iwai shifting his wrists up higher on the pillow so that he could hold them both down with one hand was all the indication he needed. Akira’s pulse quickened so fast that he felt lightheaded.  
  
    It didn't matter that he knew it was coming. As Iwai's now free hand slithered down his body like a snake and wrapped around his arousal, the floodgates opened up. All for him. Just for him.  
  
    Strangled pleas and bits of praise tumbled past his lips as his rough hand squeezed and pulled at him, providing relief as much as frenzied need for more more more. Akira's toes curled so tightly they hurt, and his stomach was quickly dissolving into ash as the pleasure kept mounting and tightening and curling over itself.  
  
    As Iwai pressed a noisy, messy sort of kiss to his ear, Akira could practically hear the sound of a gun's hammer being pulled and clicked back into place. He trembled and shook, his pleasure poised on a wire. The sensation as Iwai swirled his thumb along the head of his cock and then dug almost sweetly into the slit sent such a cascade of fire down his spine that every shred of control dissolved.  
  
    Orgasm exploded through him like a bomb, and Akira's hips jumped up against Iwai's weight in desperation. The obscene feeling of hot wetness spilling across his own stomach sent fresh shockwaves all over his body, from his hair down to his toes. He struggled and strained beneath Iwai as he rode through every intense new cascade of pleasure until at long, long last, he fell still.  
  
    His heart throbbed hard and fast in his chest, and it was everything to him to feel Iwai's doing the same against him. The man shifted above him, shuffling his hips and digging into his hypersensitive body to the point Akira cried out as if for mercy, but he knew a moment later he'd be fine.  
  
    Iwai's groan was deep and so intensely satisfied sounding that Akira knew without any other proof he’d found completion as well. His body did a slow and almost sensual relaxing on top of him, and as soon as the man's hands became loose enough, Akira freed his wrists. In a rush, he grabbed both sides of Iwai's face to haul him into a deep wellspring of a kiss that was all exhaustion and those same nameless emotions that had been too big for the tiny shop to hold.  
  
    This tiny bed could not hold them either, but it didn't matter. For right now, Akira willed everything to hold because he needed this moment. He even kept kissing Iwai as the man eased out of him, causing that glorious ache to blossom between his legs, and the sensation of hot, wetness seeping down his thigh caused an unholy shiver to rake down his back.  
  
    When Akira finally pulled back from the kiss, his lips felt bruised, and the burn of stubble could be felt all along his ear and neck. There were soft bruises forming on his wrists that caused Akira to smirk and press his pulse point to Iwai's lips.  
  
    Delight filled him when he kissed it as if to make it better, and with his free hand, Akira sweetly caressed the gecko tattoo on his neck. Iwai looked tired, but the shadows also looked less deep on his face, and it felt good to gently drag his thumb between his brows to smooth out the creases he found there.  
  
    He had another ache, another batch of love bites, bruises, and sandpapery burns to carry with him for the week, but he could feel a new hollow place starting to grow in his chest. It felt like vines of want curled and resting against the beat of his heart in a perfect nook, perfect nest that begged to be filled just like the rest of him.  
  
    It made it easy for him to smirk for Iwai and playfully drag his nails along his jaw to enjoy the soft scrape of facial hair, and to watch his tired eyes flutter closed in a way that spelled out he trusted him.  
  
    "Iwai...twice a week. I've rearranged my school schedule for the next semester."  
  
    He made sure there was no question in his voice, no room for objection. It felt almost unfair when grey eyes slid open to regard him before falling back closed and a smile poured across his lips. Akira had expected more fight, more argument. He had expected almost anything, but this look of lazy contentment that made Iwai look more handsome than he's ever been before.  
  
    "Alright. Twice a week it is."


End file.
